


holland kills nick

by skuxie



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuxie/pseuds/skuxie
Summary: holland and eniola belong to my pal, alan. shout out if youre following!





	holland kills nick

The boat slowly and carefully bobbed towards the loading dock of the aircraft carrier. The fisherman piloting the fishing boat was meticulous in their docking, and the jolt of the boat against the lower deck was nearly undetectable. Nick held his breath, listening to the heavy footsteps, the thuds of a thick rope tethering the boat to the dock, and faint humming as the fishmonger performed tasks they had clearly performed countless times before. Holland was not a stranger to their stowaway; Nick had interacted with them from time to time at The Pike. They were a pleasant person-- a rarity in the wastes-- and Nick almost regretted the bounty he had accepted. Almost. He squeezed his eyes tight for a moment, willing his doubts away and focusing back up at the task at hand. The fishmonger had a group of people living with them in their base that Nick’s employer wanted dead. He hadn’t questioned it at the time, and he wouldn’t let himself question it now. 

Nick returned to the present as Holland continued unloading the day’s bounty from their boat. He watched from his hiding place as the fishmonger hoisted a particularly large and mutated-looking fish that had to be at least 500 pounds over their shoulder and disappeared up the ramp to the left. The show of strength and the home turf advantage left a pit in Nick’s stomach and he made a mental note to avoid confrontation with the fishmonger at all costs. Once he was certain Holland had closed the door behind themself, the bounty hunter rolled out of his hiding spot and made a break for it up the opposite ramp. 

The bounty hunter ran as quietly as he could and as far as he could, hoping to put some distance between the ship’s sentinel and himself. As far as he could tell, he had successfully gotten past, but his moment of victory was cut short when he realized that he was deep in the bowels of the aircraft carrier and he had no idea where he was going. On top of that, his employee had afforded him very little knowledge on the nature of his bounty, leaving him unsure of what kind of fight he was looking forward to when it came to eliminating the carrier’s inhabitants. Nick drew his knife, preparing himself for combat at any moment as he began to slink through the darkened corridors of the base. 

The aircraft carrier bobbed ever so slightly throughout the tense exploration. It reminded the bounty hunter of the long voyage to America he had made when he was 18. He  _ hated  _ it. The sooner he could take out his targets, the quicker he could return to solid land. The thought propelled him forward, despite the building apprehension in his core. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with, as he often found himself removed from his emotions while working, but the further he travelled into the carrier, the more he found himself out of his element. He tried to focus on a thought to realign his attention to the task at hand. As quiet as the bounty hunter tried to be, the tiny sound of his movement echoed through the noticeably empty halls. Nick pondered upon the vast emptiness of the space around him. He wondered how many people he would have to kill; how much blood would be spilled. The pondering lasted only a few seconds before he reminded himself that he shouldn’t care. The wastes were harsh and cruel, and if he didn’t kill his targets, someone-- or  _ something  _ \-- else was bound to, so he might as well do it himself. Nick willed himself to block out contemplation and thought, continuing ahead with a dangerous and cold focus.

Winding, empty corridor after winding, empty corridor with no natural light left time a concept of the past. Nick was unsure how long he had been sneaking around, and was starting to think he was the only person in this ghost town of an aircraft carrier. He turned a corner, and felt a crunch under his left foot. He instinctually tightened his grip on his knife and looked down at what he had stepped on. A messy stack of water-stained paper and several broken crayons and pencils. Nick bent over to inspect the pages, but before he could put thought into the discovery, the door at the end of the hallway slammed open. Nick startled ever so slightly, but quickly prepared to fight and kill. The fisherman’s bulky figure occupied the doorframe. They let out a furious shout that was incomprehensible under their full cover fishing gear, and began barreling towards Nick. He positioned his feet to hold his ground, brandished his knife, and motioned mockingly for the fishmonger to ‘bring it on’. 

The massive, orange-wrapped figure barreled down the hallway. They weren’t very fast, but they were large. Nick anticipated a heavy swing from his opponent as they approached. Holland went in to throw their shoulder at him, and likely knock him to the ground. Their form was aggressive, but sloppy-- clearly untrained in combat. Nick dodged out of the way easily, but the tight corridor left little space to maneuver, and the bobbing of the waves caused him to throw himself into the wall. He lost his balance momentarily, and took too long to ready his footing once again. Holland took advantage of the moment, producing a large blade-- a machete!-- in their hands, and taking a swing at Nick’s leg. Nick scrambled to block the machete with his knife, but underestimated the force behind the attack, and blocked the machete with his forearm instead. The blade cut quick, deep, and all the way down. The bounty hunter clutched his arm to his chest and choked back a scream of pain. Nick gritted his teeth and threw himself against his assailant with as much force as he could muster. The fishmonger stumbled back, but not before taking a swipe at Nick’s thigh. The blade didn’t cut quite as deep, but Nick couldn’t help but howl in pain. The sound was strangled and inhuman-sounding when it escaped the speaker built into his helmet. The pain was red hot, and warm, sticky blood ran down his limbs. He wasn’t used to losing. He wasn’t used to not having the upper hand. Panic set in, and Nick’s brain switched from fight to flight. Holland was pulling back for another attack. 

_ They’re not your target. They’re not your target.  _

Nick ran.

Previously looming, empty hallways felt claustrophobic as Nick stumbled and banged against the walls. The ground seems to shift beneath his feet, and the cut in his leg that screamed with every step didn’t help either.  _ They have the upper hand. They have the upper hand.  _ He was leaving a trail of blood. It was only a matter of time before the fishmonger tracked him down. All he could hope for was to gain distance between Holland and himself. He turned a corner, continuing down a hallway that looked identical to the last six hallways. The world began to spin. Nick stopped for a split second, steadying himself against a doorframe. Nick’s slashed jacket sleeve felt heavy; soaked with blood that continued to flow from the gash in his arm. He had to do something. He couldn’t just leave empty handed. He had a mission; he needed to find his mystery targets, take them out, and get the hell out of dodge. 

A small voice coming from an open doorway three doors down snapped the bounty hunter from his woozy haze. The bounty hunter’s employer hadn’t specified who his target was, only that he needed to eliminate a group of people the fishmonger had been hiding away on their base. The fishmonger wasn’t necessarily his target, and due to the amiable interactions they had shared previously, Nick was in no rush to kill them. Anyone else on the base was a different story, however. He silently inched towards the room. Holland was bound to find him soon. It was now or never. Nick tightened his grip on his knife and slipped through the door. Silent, and violent, like he always was. He would get it over with quickly, collect his bounty, and move on to the next job. Nick ignored the screaming pain in his leg and arm, raising his knife for a deadly strike. 

The sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks. A woman and a young girl. A mother and her daughter. The vision of his own wife and daughter flashed over their faces. The knife clattered to the floor as Nick lost his grip. The pair startled at his sudden appearance. They screamed and Nick’s heart dropped into his stomach. Frozen in place, he watched as the woman threw herself in front of her daughter. “Please! Please! Don’t hurt her! She’s only a child!” His stomach churned. “You can take whatever you’d like, just don’t hurt my daughter.” The woman continued to beg. Nick wanted to throw up. “Please…” The young girl was crying, her small arms gripping her mother tightly from behind.

Nick struggled to form words. His entire form trembled. “I’m not going to hurt you. I--” His voice wavered. The woman seemed unconvinced, looking just as terrified as she had been when he was still armed. “H-Here. I’ll. I’ll take my-- I-- My-- I..” Nick’s mind raced too quickly for his mouth to keep up, instead choosing to remove his helmet in an attempt to show vulnerability. He fumbled with the helmet, his unsteady hands making it difficult to undo the latches. He finally got it, carelessly dropping the helmet and letting it swing from the tubes that attached it to his suit. “S-See? It’s okay. I’m not… It’s okay.” The mother still looked afraid, her eyes flicking between the knife on the floor, Nick’s face, and his bloodied limbs. “I-- H-Here…” He kicked his knife towards the woman, inviting her to arm herself with his own weapon. She flinched. Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “I’msorryI’msorry...Look, I’ll…” He slowly and carefully lowered himself to their height, and got to his knees. The mother quickly grabbed the knife and held it tightly against her chest. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you.” He kept his hands up. The woman stared into his eyes. He wanted to turn away. 

“Who are you?” The woman demanded.

A warm tear fell down Nick’s cheek. “Venin.”

There were times where his violent and dangerous reputation came in handy. This was not one of those times. A look of recognition crossed the woman’s mind, and she pointed the knife at him.

“Nick. N...Nikau. My name is Nikau. Stanton.” He offered. The woman’s brow furrowed, but she lowered the knife. “I was hired to eliminate any squatters on this base. But...But if I had known yous were a family…” His voice trailed off. Another tear fell. “...I’m so sorry.”

The woman eyed him warily. “Eniola.”

“Sorry, what?”

“That’s my name.” Eniola said. “You gave me yours, it’s only fair that I give you mine.”

“Eniola…” Nick tried the name out, speaking softly and carefully as to not frighten the pair even more. “I’m sorry, Eniola.”

“I know.” Eniola responded, setting the knife down next to herself. Her eyes flicked to something behind Nick. “I’m sorry too.”

Nick wanted to question her response-- wanted to turn around-- but he was beginning to feel lightheaded. Blood loss. His vision began to blur at the edges. “Wh--” Before he had a chance to finish his inquiry, he felt a forceful blow to the back of his head. His vision flickered and he crumpled to the floor. The last thing he remembered was instinct kicking in; clicking his helmet back on and into place. A bright orange blob stepping into his vision. Then everything went black.

  
  



End file.
